


Take My Love and Run

by kyko



Category: Political RPF, Political RPF - US 21st c.
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, I hope?, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-05-29 13:52:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6378649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyko/pseuds/kyko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marco Rubio did everything imaginable for Ted Cruz.<br/>A man who promised him everything, sweet-talked him into dropping everything to follow him into his delusional sunset.</p><p>Two senators' rocky, developing relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He did it.

He held the phone tight, white-knuckled.  
He was going to get it out. He did it. He did it.

A "Hello?" came up.

He did it. He actually did.  
There was no undoing this. He made his decision.

He did it.

"Uh, Marco, are you quite alright?" A hushed voice came up.

Oh.  
That's right. He has to say something.

"Ted?"

"Yeah?" An incredulous reply.

"You still love me, right?"

"Marc," Sigh. "Yes, I do. What's up?"

"Say it to me." Rubio's voice was trembling at this point.

"I'm with my family, Marco. My kids."

"Ted, I told her."

"I don't have time for this right now. Can you call me later?" Cruz grumbled, growing increasingly impatient.

Hot tears started welling up in his screwed-shut eyes.  
"Ted, I told her. I told her," Rubio repeated, his voice growing louder and more unintelligible with emotion.

A female voice is audible.  
"Ted, who are you talking to?"

"Just a colleague, darling, I'll be right in," Cruz replied, a little more sweetly to this woman.

His wife.

"I have to go. I'll call you later."

Beep.

He did everything imaginable for this man.  
A man who promised him everything, sweet-talked him into dropping everything to follow him into his delusional sunset.

Who wouldn't even do the same for him.

Marco Rubio made a mistake.

—

Beep.

Rubio twisted the key into the door, the alarm chirping as he stepped through the door.  
He is, truly, an intruder in this house.

A warm aroma of dinner cooking flooded his senses. He felt a pang of guilt in his heart.  
His wife truly loved him, did everything for the family, their family, and Rubio, ever ungrateful, had someone else on his mind, not to mention another man.  
Why couldn't he just be content with his life?

The easiest option?

Just forget about that Ted Cruz and go on with his own life.

Then why couldn't it be that easy?

A ringing "Honey?" pulled him from his thoughts.  
"Yeah, I'm home," he half-heartedly confirmed, stepping into the kitchen.  
The kids are gathered at the table, the boys are giggling about something or another, Amanda's doing homework, Daniella's tidying up around the place.

They all look up to face him.  
A chorus of greetings to their father comes.

"Hey," he smiles to the kids.

Jeanette's at the stove, stirring something in a pan.  
"Hey, Marco, how was your week?"

"Good! Uneventful."

This was a lie.

He kisses her on the cheek, she smiles.  
It feels mechanical.  
He loves her the same as always, but his head is pounding with the hard truth that this may be the last of such exchanges.

It doesn't have to be.

Rubio pulled out a chair at the end of the table, plopping down.  
His hands are sweating.

Jeanette made the rounds, dishing out tonight's dinner.

She sits down to the right of Rubio.

"Who wants to say grace?" she sweetly asks nobody and everybody at the same time, getting the kids' attention.

"I'll start," he replies.  
"Our Father, in heaven, hallowed be Your name. Your kingdom come.  
Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Give us each day our daily bread, and forgive us our sins, for we ourselves forgive everyone who is indebted to us.  
And lead us not into temptation," he trembled, "but deliver us from evil. Amen."

A mass of amens follows.

Everyone sits in silence, before Jeanette's clink of silverware grants everyone permission to begin.

Rubio just stares at his family, twisting the fork in his plate, occasionally taking dainty bites of rice.

"Marco, honey?" Jeanette inquires, concerned, laying her hand on his shoulder. "Is something the matter?"

He could get it over with now.

"I'm fine."

"No," she says softly, trailing her hand down his jaw. "I know when you're hurting. I don't want to see you feel that way."

Jeanette really was too good for him.

Rubio really had a big weight on his chest, but he couldn't ruin the precious time he had with his family.

Deep breath.  
"Can we talk after dinner?"

"Okay."

They continued the meal almost entirely in silence.

After everyone finished (not that every plate was cleared), Jeanette grabbed Marco's clenched hand.

"You wanted to talk?" she reminded.

"Yeah."

Jeanette stood up and led Rubio by the arm up the stairs, and into their room.  
She sat down in the bed.  
Rubio joined her.

"Marco, what's the matter? You've been acting so strange lately."

"Have I?" he bounced back.

"Yes. Don't shy away from the matter at hand."

Sigh.  
"Jeanette, I..."

"Spit it out."

Inhale.  
"I have someone else."  
Exhale.

"What?" she barked.

"It's true."

"I-is it love?" she inquired grimly.

"Yes."

"Are you leaving me?" she squeaked, tears flooding her eyes.

Breathe, Marco.

"Yes. Maybe, I don't know."

"Why?! Oh, my God, please, no!"

Rubio just gripped the sheets, heart pounding, head pounding.

They just kept eye contact, until she broke away, clutching a pillow and full-out sobbing.

She lifted her face up, flushed and wet with tears.

"Who is she?" Jeanette demanded.

"Actually, it's-it's another man."

"What?" She choked out.

"Jeanette, I'm sorry. I love you." He wrapped an arm around her.  
"I know it's wrong," he continued. "I don't know why I have to be this way."

She flinched away.  
"Get out."

"Wh-what?" he replied, hurt. Of course this is her reaction. He was stupidly ignorant not to expect that.  
"Jeanette, don't be rash."

"Me?" she exclaimed, an insane mix of a sob and a laugh.

A creak of the door.  
"Mom?"

Both parents' heads snapped toward their son.

"Why are you yelling?" came a pouty child.

"Dominick-"

"Your father is leaving me. He's abandoning you."

"Jeanette, it's not like-"

"That's exactly what it is," she cut in.  
"He's leaving us for a man."

"Dad? Is it true?" his shrill voice trembled.

Sigh.  
Rubio crouched down to Dominick's level.  
How to put it gently?  
"Things just aren't working out between your mother and I."

"'Not working out,' my ass!" she interjected. "Tell him. Tell him you're a selfish coward."

"Dad?" he sobbed.

"Get out. This is what you're doing to your family."

Rubio couldn't deny that.

He made a mistake. She wasn't wrong.

He just ran out, a mess.

Of course.

It couldn't be undone now.

He paced aimlessly in the front roundabout, fumbling in his pocket.

Of course.

Holding his phone in a vice-grip, he slammed Ted Cruz's name and put the phone to his ear, other hand gripping at his own hair.

"Hello?"

He did it.


	2. Chapter 2

Beep.

The one time of day he could forget about the trials and tribulations of his existence, a call from another part of his career kicked him in the head with one reminder – life has a way of always finding a chance to fuck you over.  
Lost, unstable Rubio - a man who looked to none other than Cruz for guidance. He’d been tonight’s disruption – a panicked phone call to make himself completely sure that Cruz’s affections were, in fact, with him, and to inform him that he’d… told “her” something…?  
He wouldn’t have even taken the call if not for a prior agreement to only resort to such a method of communication in the event of an emergency. They’d had to take into account each other’s families when upgrading their no-tell commitment into, well, a relationship.  
After all, they both had already committed themselves to people. They had wives-

Oh.

That probably answers the “her” question.

Damn him!

He had most certainly exposed the nature of their relationship to Jeanine. (Or whatever her name was. He couldn’t care less at the moment.)  
Was this some twisted way of proving himself to Cruz?

Rash, unstable Rubio!

-

Family asleep, Cruz slinked out of the hotel room. He deemed the hallway a safe space for now, after all, he’d only had a phone call to make.  
He dialed numbers into his phone, pacing down the corridor.

Beep.

Instantly picked up.  
“T-Ted…?”  
His voice was shrill, panicked.  
Irregular, hitching breaths.

Even after a couple of hours…?  
Well, he basically wrecked his life for Cruz.

Fair.

“Marco?” Cruz started in a low voice, the only in the building, perhaps.

“Ted, I have something I have to tell you, wait,” came Rubio rather hastily, still hyperventilating.

“Marc, shh, I’m here,” Cruz hushed softly. It would help for him to calm down.

“I told Jeanette about us. It’s done. We’re done.”

Indeed, it had been done. Does he know how stupid he’s being?

“How much does she know?” Cruz shot, perhaps a little too rough for the fragile state Rubio’s in right now.

“I – uh,” Rubio paused, audibly gulped. “Basically nothing. Just – I have someone else. That’s all,” he exhaled.

Sigh. Thank God. This could have easily been a lot worse.  
If… Imagine the uproar if it came out a candidate was having an affair, with another man, no less.

“Okay, Marco,” he deadpanned. Not quite pleased.

“What’s wrong, Ted? Aren’t you happy?” Rubio panicked, voice growing louder. “It can be just us,” he laughed dryly.  
“We can be happy.”

Clearly, they weren’t on the same page.

Sigh.

Cruz was wrong to be surprised, to not have expected this.  
Rubio was always the one to overzealously overreact, take things too far, driven by delusions of grandeur.

Clearly, Rubio had a different idea for the direction of this relationship.

What was he even to do, though…?  
Hearts would most certainly be crushed in this sensitive situation. There was no way out. That’s the way it is.

“Thank you, Marco.” Shallow appeasement. He could deal with this later, face-to-face.

Who was he kidding? That was an obvious cop-out.

He didn’t want to have to think about this.

“Ted, I love you.”  
Poor, misled Marco.

“I love you, too.” It was hard to say. He was leading him on, really. “You should really get to sleep. Where are you now?”

A dry laugh.  
“McDonald’s parking lot. Eating my feelings,” he chuckled.

“Kicked out?” Cruz asked – already knew, rather.

“Kicked out,” Rubio confirmed grimly.

“Can you get somewhere to sleep, a hotel?” Cruz had to make sure. He did care.

“Uh, yeah, I’ll find something. Ted?”

“Yeah?”

“You love me, right? I love you.”

“Yes. I love you, Marc. Goodnight.”

An exhale. “Goodnight.”

Once again.  
“Goodnight.” A closer for the call.

Beep.

Marco…  
Either decision would be rough on Cruz.  
His family is what he knew for the longest time, what balanced his life. His life would be in upheaval if he left them now.  
Was he going to leave this for a – a fling? That’s all it was.  
No guarantees, little stability.  
Was it actually...?  
Was this just an excuse? Leaving Marco would be hard for him, too.  
Marco – Marco had brought passion, variety, to his life, a revival of what had settled down with Heidi.  
Wait, did this have any meaning, actually?  
From the looks of it, this may be simply a mid-life crisis.  
But, was it…?  
It most certainly was.  
Then, why is this so hard?  
The emotional side of himself was so clearly rebelling from the logical side.  
He couldn’t help it.  
Though Heidi and the kids were his whole life, really, he could help from a feeling of – of incompleteness, really, without Marco.  
This was – quite a decision.  
A dilemma.  
He could always keep Heidi secretly, and vice-versa.  
But…  
No. It wasn’t right, and there would be more situations like earlier at dinner in the future.  
It just wasn’t right.  
(When did his usually dubious morals kick in?)

He wanted to do everything for Heidi, but also for Marco.  
What was he to do…?

It was either-or, really.

Stability.

Passion.

Either-or.

Sigh.  
He didn’t want to have to think about this now, or at all.

That wasn’t an option, though.

Life always has a way of fucking you over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, sorry for the long wait.
> 
> comments? questions? complaints?  
> flames?
> 
> all are welcome in the comments section b e l o w. ↓


	3. Chapter 3

Another morning.  
A beautiful, weekend morning.  
Sun filtering through sheer curtains - pretty (quite like a princess’ castle, tee-hee! Little her would’ve loved to wake up to this sight daily) but not at all practical! Let Marco make the decisions next-

Oh.

Fuck.

Yes.

Stupid, stupid, Jeanette!

You fuck-up. You fucked up.

Chased him off.

She wanted this to go away.

She had a pounding headache, as if her head was in a vice.  
(A fitting punishment.)

She just pulled the pillow closer and clamped her eyes shut.

She couldn’t possibly hope to change things this way, but who knows?

Life’s not a fairytale.  
You can’t just close your eyes and wish…

Just close your eyes and wish.

–

“Mom?

“Mmhm…?” Jeanette groans.

“Are you okay?” 

Daniella.

“Mmhm...” she responds, not even bothering with a response.  
“I don’t believe you.” Her tone is tinged with worry.

“Honey, I’m fine.” A blatant lie.

“I wanna see you. I haven’t seen you in days.”

“Just go, do homework, or something.”

“I’m coming in.”

A groan of resignation.

She couldn’t keep hitting the snooze button on her life.

Clink – the key on top of the door frame.

“Mom? Oh, my God, you’re a mess.”

She was right.  
Unkempt hair, dark circles around her eyes.

Alcohol in her breath, crumbs in the bed.

“Have you been drinking?” There is concern in her girl’s voice. “Oh, my God...”

An empty bottle.

Oops.

A sigh.  
“That’s it.”  
Daniella pulls the blankets off the bed, exposing her to a wave of cold air. “You’re coming with me.”

“I’ll handle things myself,” she drags out noncommittally, pulling away.

“Mandy!” Danielle calls into the house.  
“Yeah?” The younger girl appears.

“Help me here.”

She rushes to Daniella’s side.

“Mom, you’re gonna take a shower. You need it.”

“Come on, you’ll feel better!” Amanda chimes in.

Sigh. She’s being dragged by the arms by her girls.  
Okay, fine.  
Jeanette slumps after them out the door, into the hall, into the bathroom.  
“We’ll wait out in the hall,” Danielle started.

“And we’re not leaving till we hear the water running!” finishes the younger, bossy.

The door closes behind her.

She could more easily fake it, leave the water running and just stew in her bitterness for fifteen minutes, but she knew they were right.  
Her girls only wanted the best for their mom.  
A calm smile.  
She raised them right.  
-  
Jeanette emerged from the shower, (at least slightly) a new woman. (Not really, but it sure sounds cool, to rise from the ashes, as it were!)  
She met her reflection in the mirror.  
Yep, that’s her.  
Soaking wet, hair glued to her body.

(Battle stance, Jeanette! You can get through this.  
This is you.  
Marco leaving is nobody’s fault but his own.  
What didn’t you do for him?  
Just who did he leave you for?  
Deep breath.  
Okay, Jeanette.

Stop replaying that last conversation in your head.  
Don’t let that asshole control your life.  
But, what if you’re the asshole?  
You kind of were.  
You should have been more open and forgiving.  
So what if it’s a man?  
Would your reaction have differed if it was a woman?  
Maybe it was a pride thing.  
Just what did he need in a man?

God, Jeanette, get those thoughts out of your mind.  
There’s a 50-50 chance-  
You know, who are you kidding. Marco’s definitely not, well, the man, as it were.  
Not gonna lie, that’s pretty hot.

Oh, shut up, Jeanette.)

On the same note, she was at least a little relieved.  
She was good enough, as a woman, for him.  
Good for him.  
Or, was she really? What if…?  
She exited the bathroom, pulling a robe over herself.

“...Oh, God, did I turn him gay?” she finished her thoughts aloud.

“You’re being stupid again, Mom,” Amanda immediately interjected.

“It’s his own decision. It’s not all on you,” the older girl added.

“Ugh, what do I do?”

-

“Okay, council is in session!” Jeanette declares. “Who wants to go first?”  
A mass of voices arises in the circle of family sitting along the edges of the bed, legs all criss-crossed.  
“Ah! Talking pillow. Okay, you.”  
She tosses the pillow toward a raised hand.  
Dominick. (Oh, boy. You’ve got a lot of explaining to do, Jeanette. Here goes…!)  
“Mom, what happened?”  
Alright.  
“Who wants to tell him?”  
Silence.  
Sigh. Okay.  
“Well, you saw some of it. What do you know?”

“Uh,” he trails, looking across the room in thought.  
“Why’s Dad leaving?”

“Okay,” she started, grabbing the pillow. “So, he found someone else.”

“Huh?”

“He doesn’t want to be with me anymore.” Sigh.  
She handed back the pillow.  
“At least he was honest,” she mused out loud.

“Oh.”  
That answered the boy’s question, she concluded as he slowly returned the pillow to the middle of the circle.

“I’ll go. Do I call him?”

A mess of answers. “No!”/”Maybe.”/”Yes!”

Danielle forcefully yanks the pillow from Jeanette.  
“He’s got to have made his decision, by the time he got to telling you!”

“Maybe I can turn him around!”

“Mom.”

“Surely, he’s just confused?”

“Mom!” Daniella exaggeratedly huffs. “Let’s give someone else a turn.”

Anthony raises his hand, and he receives the “talking pillow.”  
“Mom, can you just get Dad back?”

“Honey...” she sighs. “I can’t make any promises.”

Everyone’s just hanging around, really. There is a heavy silence in the air.

“He wasn’t around much anyway, eh? I’m the head of the house now!” She broke the silence, trying to lighten things up a bit.

“You say that like- like he’s not coming back,” the older boy’s voice cracks.

“Listen,” Jeanette starts grimly. “We can’t go around expecting that. We have our own lives. I hate to say it, but,” she pauses. “We’re just gonna have to get over it.”  
“Really, just like that?” Amanda doubts.

Jeanette takes Anthony and Amanda’s hands, prompting them to hold the other two’s.

“We’ll have to get through this as a family. It will be tough, but can we do this? For me? For us?”

Silence, followed by-

A unanimous “Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops- it appears I know more than is normal about the Rubios, according to a friend!
> 
> Sorry for the long wait!
> 
> Comments, questions, concerns? Leave 'em below ↓


	4. Chapter 4

Opening the door slowly, Ted crept up to the bed, the mattress squeaking almost inaudibly as he settled down. Just as he was pulling the blankets over himself-  
“Ted, who was that?” Heidi started, turning toward Cruz.  
Shit.  
The phone call?  
What will he say to her?  
How much had she heard?  
“It was nothing.”  
(Not a good way to deflect that, Ted!)  
“Bullshit. Are you going to tell me what that was?”  
Deep breath.  
“None of your goddamned business, that’s what.”  
Heidi’s face tensed up, eyebrows lowered, sitting upright in the bed now.  
“I am your wife,” she very nearly snarled. “I believe I deserve to know just who you tell you love them!”  
Cruz propped himself up, too, shock moving through him.  
Yep, she heard everything.  
This is bad. (No shit.)  
“Yes, Ted, surprise! I heard everything,” she condescended. “Now can you tell me what the hell that was?”  
He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.  
Imagine when this gets out…  
“It’s pretty self-explanatory, if you ask me,” he shot back.  
“Okay. Who’s Marco?”  
Damn this woman! Can’t she mind her own damn business?  
“What does it matter? You caught me,” he feigned surprise, flinging his hands up in the air.  
“Marco...”  
A sick smile appeared on her face.  
“Rubio?”  
His heart dropped.  
He gave himself away.  
“Of course. Of course, Ted!”  
She exhaled, teeth clenched in a sick smile.  
Sick, sick woman.  
“Does that mean,” she paused, “does that mean all those other times...”  
“Heidi, you’re being ridiculous.”  
“No, Ted, you are. Go fuck your little boy-toy.”  
He pressed his lips together, lips soon curling upward to form a sly smile.  
“At least he actually knows how to please me.”  
Heidi lowered her eyebrows, eyes opening wide, taken aback.  
“Fuck you.”  
She got up, stepping in her slippers, and promptly left, slamming the door behind her.  
He glanced at his girls in the other hotel bed. (He can’t exactly leave.)  
He’s gonna have to tie things up later.  
–  
Awake, dry mouth. Curtains not really doing their job, sun shining in his eyes.  
Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, Cruz glanced over to the other bed, last night’s events coming to him.  
Heidi and the kids were asleep in the other bed.  
Maybe he could slink away now.  
He could definitely use the fresh air.  
If there was one thing he needed, it was to speak to Marco now.  
–  
“Hello.”  
Message sent, blue bubble whisked out on the screen.  
The usually busy Starbucks seemed desolate this early in the morning.  
Chain restaurants like these- it was like being in a vacuum, really. The same surroundings no matter where you were. The same indistinct faces bustling back and forth. That one barista you swear you’ve seen before, no matter the age, gender, no matter how illogical it may be to ever have operated alongside them.  
Ting.  
“Hi!”  
Grabbing the phone to respond, he saw the grey “...” that signified an incoming message. Might as well see what the man’s got to say.  
“What hotel are you staying at?”  
Oh, God.  
Nothing but the click-click-clicking of his typing filling the air(he always did find those ‘keyboard sounds’ cheesy), he sent one back-  
“Marco, where are you?”  
...  
“Where you are. Where are you staying?”  
He’d stop at nothing, wouldn’t he?  
Cruz grabbed his stuff (‘Stuff’ being just his phone and his coffee, black and hot, no sugar, as always) and headed straight out the door. (He didn’t at all enjoy the strong, bitter taste, but he’d always taken it like this back in high school, perhaps to prove something, and it just stuck.)  
Pacing in the parking lot, he decided he might as well not leave the man hanging.  
He pulled out his phone and gave it out- “I’m at the Starbucks by the Marriott.”  
…  
“Okay.”  
He’s crazy.  
Whatever. This wasn’t anything new.   
What now, just wait for him?  
Cruz sat on the metal fence lining the road, taking in the cold morning air.  
He couldn’t help but be brought back to his younger days- sitting by the highway in the dead of the night with kids he’d like to have called his friends, getting drunk out of their minds, whooping and hollering into the darkness.  
He’d sort of regretted having to leave such a fast lifestyle when he’d transferred to Second Baptist, but, y’know, he couldn’t have both that and his aspirations of greater.

Oh, here’s Marco.  
Though he knew of his presence here, it was a little strange, the man following him here.   
Like a lovestruck teenager, that Marco.  
Taxi instantly speeding off as he disembarked, Marco approached Cruz from the Starbucks.  
He settled down next to Cruz wordlessly, resting his hand on Cruz’s.  
After a while of just resting his gaze on Cruz, Marco finally broke the silence.  
“It’s been too long since we’ve met face-to-face.”  
Cruz just smiled, eyes meeting his. “You’re crazy, you know that?”  
Marco laughed a breathy laugh. “I try.” He grabbed the drink out of Cruz’s hands, taking a small swig, a grimace soon appearing on his face after tasting it.  
Anyone driving by could see them, the couple of queers they were.  
“Rough flight?” he asked, making conversation.  
“You know, not particularly. Nobody’s really coming here in the middle of the night. Slept like a baby.”  
Cruz sighed.  
“What’s the situation with your wife?” He probably already knew all there was to know, though it wouldn’t hurt to know the full story.  
“You know. Kicked out. She didn’t take it well, obviously. I’m probably not bothered enough by the whole thing. Guess the reality of it hasn’t set in yet.”  
“You know, I think I can relate,” he put in.  
“Hm?” A curious look.  
“Yep, she knows,” he confirmed.  
“Oh, God, I’m sorry,” Marco said grimly, gripping Cruz’s shoulder, the guiltiest look appearing on his face.  
“It’s my fault. She heard our call,” Cruz put in, looking out toward the open road.  
“How much did she hear?”  
“All of it.”  
“That’s,” he sighed, “probably not good.”  
“She could ruin me. You, too.”  
Marco sighed.  
“At least we’re here, together, now. It’ll be rough not seeing the kids, though. Should I go for visitation rights?”  
“I know, I know. I’ve got two girls, too. It’s going to be hard. There’s always the risk she’s going to tell someone about us.”  
“Who cares?”  
“Marco, don’t be ridiculous. It may not affect you, but I’m still running for president, you know,” he reminded rather matter-of-factly.  
Marco pressed his lips together.  
“Not everything’s about you!” Marco bursted, pulling away. “What about me, huh? I can’t always be putting my life on hold for you.”  
“Marco-”  
“Don’t ‘Marco’ me," he hissed. "You’re always like this.”  
Marco rose up, eyes closed, taking deep breaths.  
“There can’t always be conflict like this. We need to sort things out,” Marco changed his tone, letting out a heavy breath.  
“Ted, what are we?” his voice broke.  
“Marco,” Cruz rose up, taking Marco’s hand into his. “We’ll figure this out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao i should be in AP Cruz History tbh.

**Author's Note:**

> lmao sorry for the sucky fic.  
> comments? questions? concerns? go in the comments section b e l o w ↓


End file.
